The Price of His Return
by ZevofB3K
Summary: Set several years after Hellraiser III. Joey thinks about Elliot and how much he's changed since his unexplained return from Hell, as well as traits he shares with Pinhead. Implied JoeyElliot pairing.
1. Good Enough

We still have no idea how he got back or under what pretenses, and I can't really say if I'm happy to have him around or not, but I will say that Elliot is more loyal than most men I've met. He rarely knows if he's coming or going, and it's unbelievable how little he understood when I first took him in, but I guess the world would be alien to someone who supposedly died in 1921. Christ, he's a pain in the ass a lot of the time, with the way he wanders around, scaring people with his sometimes spacey behavior and nervous laughter, but it doesn't change anything for me. It's weird to consider, since there's no doubt that he's fucking crazy, definitely not human, and can sometimes be more of a liability than anything else, but if I ever need him, he's always there.

I was terrified at first, when I saw him again ( and who wouldn't be after all the shit he put me through?), standing there in that alley over what looked like a crazy old derelict's body. I dunno what the crazy old fuck wanted with me, but I know that he was trying to hurt me and the next thing I knew, Elliot was there and crushed his head like it was a grape. My first instinct was to run, since I already knew what seeing Captain Elliot Spenser meant, but something stopped me. He was different, and at the time, I had no idea how different. He looked like he hadn't eaten anything in like forever, and couldn't even speak, as he seemed to be trying to remember how to move and act in a human body. I didn't know how bad it was until I finally got my courage up, deciding that he wasn't his "unbound" self (whatever the fuck that means, because that prick was still trying to kill me after Elliot interfered), and brought him up to my apartment to clean the blood off him. I don't know why I did it. Maybe it was because I felt sorry for him, or maybe it's because I felt like I owed him or something. I mean, yeah, he was kinda obligated to save me the first time from his demonic half, but he did save me a second time from what I came to find out was a Puzzle Guardian, and it had been pissed off about what I did with its box. I'm not sure why it was so pissed either, since I've been past what used to be that construction site and have seen the building. If anything, I sorta did Hell a favor.

Anyway, getting back to Elliot. I couldn't believe how many scars were on his arms alone once I helped him peel the blood-soaked sweatshirt off (and by the way, I'm not used to seeing him in normal clothes either), and since then, I've seen just how many scars cover the top half of his body, and trust me, it's not like Dumbledore says in the Harry Potter books. Elliot's scars aren't a good map of Hell's labyrinth, and they don't serve any purpose except to remind him of what he used to be and still is partially. Once he started speaking again, which wasn't until a couple weeks later, he told, or rather rambled to me about everything, or at least what he could remember, leaving me to translate it into understandable English. From what I could get, time in Hell makes no fucking sense and up is down. I guess his worse half got bored and decided that there was nothing better to do than beat the shit out of himself on a regular basis per se, because that's what it seems like to me, and it had to be going on for a really long time, because the Elliot I remember from our first meeting wouldn't have broken so easily. He still won't tell me exactly what happened to him, but every now and then he'll let things slip. Like I'll ask him to pass over a jar of jelly beans I have on the side table while we're watching TV and he'll randomly comment "Y'know…kidneys look a lot like these…at least mine did…when they fed them to me," before laughing nervously and actually handing me the jar. By that time, my craving for jelly beans is dead anyway.

Then again, what bothers me more is the fact that he can look into a person's eyes for just a second or two, and immediately know everything about them. I'll never forget the time he accidentally bumped into this guy at the grocery store and calmly said to him, "Is that the same knife you threatened your wife with? Pity you didn't clean it…it makes the blood on your hands easier for me to smell. The other me will be seeing you soon."

Low and behold a year later, something killed that guy. The details are pretty slim, but after being caught trying to dispose of said wife's body, the guy pulled out some kind of wooden cube and disappeared, only for his skin to be suspended on chains between the some trees in upstate New York. When I asked Elliot what he thought, he simply replied, "…I can only give the thought…not my place to think."

The funny part is, I'm perfectly okay with all of it. All the random comments about being tortured (although I know for sure that Pinhead's eviscerated him least ninety times – don't ask how that came up in conversation, I just know), or the two times he tried to kill himself, an, or the fact that he flips out every time I open the drapes because he insists that there's things there I can't see, and even the fact that he reverts to what he really is when he gets angry – I can handle all of that. It's been over ten years since I stepped through that window (or door – whatever, I don't know what it was), and since coming back from Hell, Elliot's made sure that anything that comes after him never gets to me. The cleanup part of the job is a bitch, but I guess no relationship is perfec

To get something straight, I didn't know how to react when Elliot first told me he loved me a year ago. I mean, c'mon - the guy's over a hundred years old if you really think about it, he's obsessed with demons and puzzles, and if you piss him off badly enough he can kill you by just thinking about chains with hooks and broken glass. When he told me there was "a monster out there and it was him," he hadn't been kidding. The fact that he can rarely control these abilities makes him dangerous enough, and that's without all of the wakeup calls in the form of Puzzle Guardians or other supernatural shit that comes around once in a while. All I know is, that was the first time I'd ever seen Elliot smile.

I know he's never going to be normal. That would be pretty hard with all of the above considered, with the addition of the fact that I get nervous every time he goes anywhere near the knives in the kitchen (To this day, Elliot is the only person I know who laughs hysterically when he "accidentally" cuts himself while slicing up a fucking apple, and that was after being pushed off the roof by what he says was another demon in human skin. To me, it was just some crazy slut in a black dress who wanted to know where the box I put in the cement was). It's just that when he looks at me with those black eyes, I'm not afraid. I don't even know and don't think I'll ever find out if he's the real Elliot Spenser I met in limbo that night years ago. I guess he's just good enough for me.


	2. She's Gone

A/N: This is a continuation of the first chapter, but in Elliot's now warped POV this time. Set sometime after HR 6. Yes, what became of Kirsty is revealed.

Joey always wondered why I would never tell her how I came back. The answer is simple, really. I never wanted to hurt her. No…I don't like hurting people, but I do, and I'm sorry. Most of the time. It's not as if they don't ask for it. If they didn't ask, I wouldn't be able to do anything. Of course, Joey didn't ask for them to do anything. They just did it, because she got in the way trying to protect me. Funny how Leviathan changes the rules to suit their purposes.

I remember how I came back, even though I always said I didn't remember. Blood is all it takes. You bleed on something left over from someone who is long gone, taken away by the box. I don't know who did it. I ate them, so how would I know? I don't imagine anyone else would get acquainted with someone they were about to literally suck the skin off, would they? No…no, I suppose not. That's why I always told Joey that skinless fodder are nothing to worry about as long as she covered the back of her neck. They seem less eager that way, speaking from extensive experience.

I kept telling her they would come back for me. Hell doesn't appreciate it when people get away, but she wouldn't listen. She just kept holding my hand and promising me that she wouldn't let the monsters take me. She actually made me believe I wasn't one myself. Joey was never afraid of me. Not even when I was a ghost, and that was before she saw me as a demon. Even then, she wasn't that afraid of me. I was good enough for her.

I'm still angry with me, and when I say I, I mean the other me. The me that isn't entirely me at all, but is mostly just a demon using what's left of my body full of pins and hooks and other nasty business. No, don't ask where because I'll never tell. Or my old body, I don't know. Either way, my eyes are still black and he still talks to me when I close my eyes. I hated it when Joey made me sleep. When I sleep, he's there. He still wants me to do horrible things to her…and all I can ever think of is what she looked like tied up and bound so many years ago with that. I still want to know what that creature that came up through the floor was, mind. There are so many demons in Hell, and I only recognize a handful of them…some of them recognize me a bit too well, but that's what I get for turning my back on them. I should have taught Joey the same thing. She turned her back on them, too. Bad trouble, that.

I should have been able to save her. I've done it so many times, and am constantly having to remind myself not to think about chains and broken glass and barbed wire because no one but the demons deserve it. They deserve it more than ever now. They took her away from me, just like they took Kirsty. Of course, she isn't Kirsty anymore, just as I'm not entirely Elliot anymore. She's got some long demon name that I can't think to remember because my own is so difficult to pronounce.

I'll not ever forget what she looks like now. She's the same as him – blood, leather, metal, and vanilla. All that remains to remind me of who she used to be is that long black hair. He always fancied that bit of her for some reason, it figures he'd let her keep it, even now that she's knocked Angelique out of the top favorite spot. Joey and I always used to laugh about that… but Joey can't laugh anymore. Kirsty saw to that. I always told Joey how to behave in Hell if the portal ever opened. Not to open the doors, to always keep moving, and to always keep an eye on the walls because they like to move. I thought telling her to watch her back was a bit obvious. Perhaps it wasn't

I should have known Kirsty wouldn't stay away from the boxes. There were too many problems. Her husband, his whores, his plot to kill her - it's no wonder she wanted his help. I just don't understand why she would trust him…I've done horrible things as him, I know how he thinks. And even now that we're separated, I still see what he sees and feel what he feels. He can use me at any time, just like he tried to use me to hurt Joey so long ago. Joey's gone because I had no idea Kirsty finally gave in. I've lost both my girls in one night, yet I still don't understand how. I'm all alone now.

I'm covered in Joey's blood, and it comforts me. It means part of her is with me.


	3. Concerning the Ex

A/N: You all thought she was dead, didn't you? Silly rabbit, thinking Elliot was of sound mind and able to make a clear judgment...

I'm used to waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of Elliot screaming. I'm even more used to him hurting himself in his sleep and am glad that by the time I get down the stairs and make it to the couch that the gouging hasn't yet commenced. He's curled up in a ball, drenched in a cold sweat and the couch cushions are all over the floor. His arms are up over his head, and his wrists are bleeding again – a reminder of his early days here when I thought it was okay to leave him alone.

It's always dangerous to approach Elliot in his sleep, because if he doesn't flat out backhand you, he'll use demonic means of defending himself, and neither method is all that appealing to be on the receiving end of, even if he _does_ look like he weighs less than two pounds. I assume the normal routine, and grab hold of him so I'm half standing over him and half lying on him. I start calling out to him and try to tell him that he needs to wake up. I can only pry his arms away from his head if he really wants me to, but as he begins to wake up and realize that nothing (that I can see, anyway) is going to destroy him, he sits up and looks at me like a little kid whose favorite blanket has been taken away. Nope, his eyes are still black. Nothing new there.

Now I have to find out if this is just his every day crazy or if he's actually seeing something that we need to look out for in the near future. I just wish the demonic visions would make up their mind – I don't like to see Elliot like this any hours of the day or night, but if he has to have episodes, I wish he'd do it when we're supposed to be awake. I can already see getting up to go to work tomorrow is going to be a battle between the need to get up and the desire to sleep until noon. I sigh as Elliot weakly leans into me, drawing me into what seems to be a hug, but it isn't quite that either, since he only hugs, albeit awkwardly when you spring it on him. I guess he's just British like that – I don't know, I don't know that many other British guys to compare him to.

I ask him what's wrong and about what he's seen and all he can do is speak incoherent words at me, as usual. Something about some chick named Kirsty betraying us and how he doesn't want to lose me. He talks about a new cenobite, and how excited he got when he saw the chain with its hook on the end rip through my back and come out through my chest, covering him in my blood (Way to flatter a girl there, Elliot) and how disgusted he was that he let himself get excited. I don't know who the fuck Kirsty is, and if she's that stupid slut down at the grocery store that keeps propositioning Elliot because she thinks his fucked up behavior is "cute," then I've apparently got a body to hide. His behavior isn't cute, hon, that's just Elliot trying to reassert his human personality over the demonic one. The demonic personality would probably kill her for even suggesting the word "cute" as an adjective concerning his behavior.

Once I get Elliot to calm down, I go into the kitchen and bring him a glass of water, which isn't really made of glass because I've just recently learned that his powers aren't limited to chains and wire. I ask him to tell me again what exactly it was he saw, and he tells me in great detail, which I'd rather forget since the prime subject of the dream/vision happens to be my death. Now that he reminds me, I do know who Kirsty is. She was the girl on that tape – the same one I saw Elliot on years ago. She's the reason why he's split into two beings, and the more he talks about her the more uncomfortable I get. Elliot has never mentioned Kirsty to me once since he came back, and I guess I can see why considering what his other half wants to do to her. I'm all right with the fact that his other half is obsessed with her, but I can't help but think a part of Elliot shares that obsession. They seem to share just about every other quality I can think of, except I can't see dumbass Pinhead sitting under a table for safety while eating out of a jar of peanut butter. Don't ask, because even I'm not sure about the answer to that one.

Either way, it looks like we'll be Google-ing Ms. Kirsty in the morning, if only to make Elliot feel better. What I'm not going to tell him however, is that I want to feel better just as badly as he does. He probably already knows, but if Hell really is going to open up again and Kirsty's gonna go all leather queen on us, then I really can't afford to be afraid. Elliot needs me too much, and I'm reminded of that as I lead him back up the stairs to my room with me since I don't like the idea of him being alone.

He rarely sleeps in the same bed as me, and for obvious reasons, but even though he weakly protests, I'm not letting him stay downstairs with the knives and TV remote (you'd be surprised what Elliot can turn into a deadly weapon if left to his own devices long enough). I lie down on the bed with him and curl his arm around my waist, holding it there firmly so I can keep track of him for the rest of the night. I'm not gonna let him try to kill himself again – especially not when he's holding onto critical, need-to-know information. He's lucky I love him too. Not many other women would let their…okay, so I don't know what to call him, but I'm gonna let him find his ex-girlfriend, aren't I?


	4. Who is Protecting Whom

A/N: And back to Elliot's warped POV. And just as a side note, watch all the Hellraisers – Joey was the first character to actually say "Pinhead" out loud.

I know Joey thinks I'm insane. She's right – she often is, but I know what I saw. I can't trust what I see, I never can, but I know what I saw this time was real. Who am I to think that I'm really looking over Joey's shoulder as she types away on the infernal machine, which she devotes much of her time to? I hate machines. They don't work for me, mainly because they die as soon as I touch them. They wither and die, just like all the people who've met me and will meet me. I don't need to read the articles about the mysterious deaths of Kirsty Cotton's family, the murders surrounding the family, or the sudden cave-in at Number 55 Lodovico St. I was there. Part of me is still there. I'm in lots of places at once, even though I don't know where. I'll not tell Joey, though. It's another thing she's better off not knowing.

But isn't that what's going to get her killed in the first place? My not telling her things has gotten her in trouble before. I still think about it – the hut, the tying her up, and the other me trying to convince me to hurt her. Sometimes I think I acted differently. Part of me remembers what really happened, but there's something else telling me different. Perhaps I didn't join with him to save her. Perhaps I really did hurt her…she wouldn't say. She's too strong for that…perhaps she shelters me just as much as I do her. Like I'm doing now.

The drapes are open this morning, and staring at the computer screen is all I can do to ignore it. She knows I hate having the drapes open, she knows it, but she still persists. She doesn't understand that I can't see the view she so often comments about. All I see is a room full of hooks, chains, bone, and meat, and people scream as they're torn apart or even created in the image of the monsters that torture them. The demons are everywhere, even if Joey doesn't know it. She doesn't need to, they aren't interested in her yet. Even now, I can see them smiling at me on the other side of the glass. They're waiting for me to give in…I won't hurt her. I don't want to hurt anyone…but I still do. That's what monsters do.

Joey's talking to me, but I can't pay attention. I never can…usually she rattles on about work. Who's annoying her, what story she's been assigned to, and how much she's grown to hate kindergarten kids. I rather like kids. They're honest about being dishonest. Just like the demons. These are things I understand.

There's something about finding news about a car accident concerning Kirsty. I dislike cars just as much as I do machines…y-yes….terrible things, especially since it's so easy to twist the metal into the bodies of the people driving them. I've often thought about how Joey would look with…and now she's administering a firm slap to my shoulder to get my attention. My violent girl…yet she says I'm the one with a temper problem. I'm half-demon, what's her excuse?

I don't need to hear about the deaths surrounding Kirsty's dead husband, either. I know what Pinhead's been up to. Joey and I always laugh about the name she coined in a moment of panic, but I know what he really is. I can already feel it, how he's been preying on Kirsty, and how he coerced her into killing. So Trevor Gooden deserved it, I won't deny that. He brought her the box, he was unfaithful to her, he planned to kill her. I just wish Kirsty wasn't the one who pulled the trigger. Five souls will never be enough. He, my other half, didn't get five souls. He got six and she's too naïve to know it. The only reason he helped her was because of me. He left something of himself in me, but it worked both ways. I just wish I could tell her that I _did_ give up my life freely for her. Perhaps if she knew that, she wouldn't have made the same choice.

I can't tell Joey that, either. She's so excited about being able to help me, and is quite proud of herself for finding out where Kirsty lives. Joey always gets excited, acting as if foiling Hell itself is like one of those serials on television she likes so much, now that she's over the initial shock of it. She thinks talking to Kirsty will change everything. I wish I could share the same enthusiasm. Talking won't help. For all we know, she could be possessed. I've been possessed enough to know when someone is…Joey should too, considering how many times she's had to handcuff me to the stairs while she figured out a way to put me right again. But I can't reason with her.

We're not going to see Kirsty to talk with her, no. There isn't even a "we" involved. Once we get there, I'm going to have to quietly take my leave. I can't let Joey see what I'm about to do…because after I do it, I'm not sure I'll be able to keep myself from doing the same to her. Crazy, I might be, but I'm certainly not without common sense. Most of the time. There is still that incident concerning my opening of a certain puzzle box that landed me in this situation, after all.


	5. He Always Knew

A/N: We're back to Joey's POV, and I wanna say thanks for all your lovely reviews . If anyone gets pissed about the geography here, I'm sorry – I've only been to New York once or twice.

When I wake up in the middle of the night to find the hotel room empty, I can't say I'm surprised. I'm angry, don't get me wrong, I'm so pissed I rip his head off myself when I finally find him, but I'm not surprised. Elliot has been surprisingly distant from me ever since he had the bad dream.

The drive from Manhattan to upstate New York was unusual, considering how much I know Elliot hates being in a car and the fact that I usually get him talk so he can forget about where he is. Not only was Elliot completely silent (even when we were nearly rear-ended by some stupid fucker stopping short), but he was calmer than I've ever seen him before. He was slumping back in the seat, absently staring out the window as if he were on auto-pilot. The only time he willingly spoke to me was out of the blue. We were just driving down one of those boring patches of highway with nothing but trees on either side to look at, when he suddenly asked me if I ever regretted meeting him in the first place.

I didn't know what to say. Of course, I've thought about how it might be if I hadn't taken him in. I've even thought about how it might be if I'd have told him to find someone else to help him when he pulled me into his dimension that night, but I don't regret it. Demon persona aside, I'm not that close to many people, and I think Elliot's the closest I've been to anyone since I moved out of my parents' house. Of course, that might be related to the fact that I'm kinda reluctant to leave him on his own most of the time. I dunno what it is, I guess after watching the Re-Animator movies, I've decided it's not too unlikely that Elliot might start hiding moving body parts in the refrigerator. I swear, if he ever does, I'll kill him. That's if I don't kill him as soon as I find him.

When I told him I didn't regret anything, he laughed lightly. There was even some kind of futility to his words. He thanked me for saying it even though I didn't mean it. He said he always knew I wished he were different, and that was only when I wanted him around, but he didn't mind. That creeped me out, because I'd only had that sort of thought way back when I first took him in. I used to get really frustrated with him and his "little kid – take care of me" kind of personality. I never said anything to anyone about those thoughts, and I hated them so much I always tried to pretend and rationalize why I'd had them.

Yeah, sometimes I wish I could have gotten to know him as he used to be – the army captain from WWI, but I can't know him that way because that person is long gone, and I get that now. I just wish Elliot could have elaborated on it more, because he wouldn't talk at all after that. All I could do was reach across and grab his hand with mine. He responded by grabbing my hand tightly, as if this was going to be the last time. Now that I know the little prick was planning to leave, I'm gonna throttle him if Kirsty Cotton doesn't do it first. I can't see this reunion being a pleasant one - that's why I wanted to go with him in the first place.

He probably took off as soon as he was sure I was asleep and decided to walk the rest of the way to the Goodens' home, which from the looks of the address, isn't in the best spot for Elliot to be going late at night. The last thing I need to do is cover for him because he decided to go homicidal with a couple of assholes who decided to mug the one person in the whole state of New York that can kill them by looking at them. I'm positive the demons didn't take him, because A, that would be impossible without a box, and B, regardless of what he says about demons being everywhere all the time, an attack from one isn't necessarily something you'd sleep through.

When I find Elliot, first I'm gonna apologize to Kirsty for his behavior, and then kindly tell her that she doesn't know what she got away from. After we sort out everything concerning her, Elliot's mine. I'm gonna make sure to tell him that I'm not pleased about having to jump up and get dressed at 3' A.M., let alone have to be driving these fucked up streets so late just so I can grab his ass and cart him back to where he belongs. I know he's up to something, and I'm sick of being handled with kid gloves around him, because for all intents and purposes, he's the kid, not me. I don't care if he's over a hundred years old (take his estimated birth date and subtract that from now – he's really old), because if he were sane enough to use all the knowledge he acquired during his time as a demon alone he'd know that his being alone and out in the open is the dumbest fucking move he could make.

I just want him to be okay. Elliot's form of okay, and that's more than good enough. As pissed off as I am, all I can think about are things like when he used to scare off my dates that were just trying to make a booty call (it doesn't take a lot when your eyes are black), or when the two of us end up laughing so hard about something so stupid we eventually forget what we were laughing about. He's a psycho, but he's my psycho. He's my responsibility. If I have any thoughts of regret, I just have to remember that I did this to myself, and none of it is his fault.


	6. Sacrifice

A/N: Elliot's about to do something very naughty…

It isn't difficult to get into the house. When you're like me, all you have to do is think about it and the door can open. I always tell Joey not to go opening doors, especially in situations concerning Hell, because who knows what happens to be behind it. Now I'm the monster behind the door and I can already feel him taking over, y-yes….he is in his element now, and he's more excited than he's ever been in quite some time.

She's not home yet. I have to wait for her, and in that process, all the voices come out to play. I know there's no one else there. Voices always like to come out to play in the dark, the other me's voice louder than all the rest, and no matter where I am, I can always hear him screaming in my ear. I can plainly see that Kirsty has built a good life for herself despite the recent murders surrounding her. It would appear she has lived a normal life, but I know better. The box is sitting on a table near the sofa as if it's some sort of decoration. It's warm when I touch it, so much that it burns me. I can hear Leviathan's voice in my head, mocking me as I see the faces of all those she killed. Three pretty girls, a rather unremarkable man, and her husband. I can't stand to touch the box after that, I can even feel the eels forcing themselves up my throat and the voice inside me laughs so much that I want to laugh, too. But I can't do that. There's nothing to laugh about.

The front door opens and I remain silent. She throws her bag down, just as I've seen Joey do countless times, and turns the lights on. She gasps and backs up against the door when she sees me. I quietly greet her, but we both know this isn't how I speak. This is him speaking. I'm allowing him to have control for tonight, because otherwise I wouldn't be able to do this. She isn't afraid of me – once she gets over her shock she stares at me for less than a second before she pushes past me and begins questioning me as she makes a pot of coffee. She won't look me in the eye. I don't blame her.

She asks me what I want and says that I've gotten my five souls. The mention of five people dead by her hand makes me feel sick again, but I try to tell her that I'm not him. I can't stand to look at her. Like Joey, she's gotten so beautiful, and I know what the demon inside me likes to do to beautiful women. An image of what she is in danger of becoming flashes through my mind as she asks me how I got out.

I never told Joey how I got out, and I'm certainly not about to tell Kirsty. I can't risk letting her have that information. I explain to her why I got out, however. She comments about the scar across my throat as she sits on the counter, swinging her legs slightly and looking at me. Funny how she doesn't question how I got in or why I'm there. I'm happy that she doesn't. even though I have to tell her. I have to tell her that I know, and that I know too much.

We stare at each other until the coffee machine shuts off and she offers me some. Joey always says the last thing the world needs is an insane half-demon on caffeine and she's right. I decline and I follow her into the living room. She's so different now. She's no longer the scared little girl looking for Daddy. She's the big bad wolf, all dressed up in Grandmother's clothes and she doesn't even know it.

She strives for conversation, asking my about the scar on my neck, if it's from Dr. Channard. It is. She asks me how I'm here while my other half is making deals with her. I tell her. She wants to know why I'm not the same and why my eyes are black. I tell her it's because most of me is gone and all that is left is the eighty odd years of pain and suffering. She wants me to tell her more about Joey. I do. She looks angry at the mention of the nature of my relationship with Joey. I don't know why…it's not what she thinks. I love Joey, but I know she isn't mine. Only one of us is crazy, and it certainly isn't her. Humans and demons don't mix, because when they do, the humans die if they don't wither first. Besides, I don't love Joey all the time. Some days, I find myself thinking about the woman in front of me. Because of him. Because of him, I'm not one man, but two. Two bad men in one room with an unsuspecting little girl playing dress-up. But then I remember. Little girls don't kill five people.

I ask her about herself and she hesitantly tells me about her work, how difficult it's been since her husband died. I instantly react, anger overtaking me. I tell her how she fails to mention the fact that she has been to Hell recently, even as the box sits out in plain sight for anyone to use. She jumps as I shout, but I keep going. I tell her about how I know what she's been doing and the real reason for the car's driving off the bridge. I ask her how she could have been so stupid to fall into his trap again, knowing how he's obsessed with her.

She tries to rationalize, telling me that he was cheating on her. Lots of men are unfaithful to their wives, Kirsty. Not all of the wives kill their husbands for it, let alone their mistresses. She says he was planning to kill her. I ask her why of all the people in this world or the next that she could have turned to, it had to be a demon of hell whose obsession with her is endless. She can't answer me, so I continue speaking. I tell her about how I can see things and how they never leave me alone. She blames it on an interrupted REM cycle, and I remind her to look at my eyes. She falls silent again.

I tell her about what she is in danger of becoming, and she refuses to believe me. I can't blame her. She is crying now, getting up out of her chair and turning her back on me. She covers her mouth, trying to hide her tears from me, but emotions scream inside my head just as loudly as the thoughts do.

I get up and put my hand on her shoulder. She flinches at first, but then begins to relax, believing that if I had wanted to kill her, I would have already done it. How wrong she is. She turns around to look directly at me for the first time since she found me in her home. There's the lost little girl I remember. I'm sorry, Kirsty.

She doesn't scream as the first chain rips through my back and into the center of her chest, piercing her heart. It hurts me just as much as it hurts her, but I can't die from it. I was dead to begin with, and besides, I'm used to it. It retracts and disappears into the nothingness where I summoned it from as another chain comes out of the wall behind her, piercing her throat. She chokes slightly, but she's already lost enough blood. Won't be long now.

I lower her to the floor and stroke her hair as her breath rattles out for the last time. Her eyes are empty and glassy like mine now. He laughs. I can see him now, coming out of the woodwork as easily as the chains now. He circles around us, speaking in his pedantically evil, lilting almost-poetry. I don't know if he's really there or not. I don't really care. Joey isn't here to tell me otherwise. Seeing him makes me feel cold in contrast to Kirsty's body, which is still deceptively warm even as red life pours out of her. She isn't there anymore. She's probably with him, which is where she would have been either way. At least now he has no body to do with her what had been done to me. The box has to take both body and soul for that to work.

He mocks me, mentioning how I always tried to act as if I were better than him, but in the end I succeeded in doing what he couldn't. I don't reply to him. I know he's right, but I had to choose. It was either lose both my girls at once or sacrifice one to spare the other. Kirsty was already lost to me. I can't bear the thought of losing Joey, too. Not when she didn't deserve to be involved with me in the first place. She took care of me. She always took care of me. I had to take care of her, too. That's why I never told her things. That's why I left. I just wish Joey understood that.

Kirsty hadn't locked the door when she'd gotten home. That's the only reason why Joey is now standing in the doorway, staring at me in disbelief as I cradle Kirsty's body in my lap. I'm sorry, Joey. You weren't meant to see this.


	7. The Truth Hurts

A/N: Took forever for me to update – work sucks, what can you do about it? Back to Joey's POV for this one.

When I see Elliot, I'm not exactly shocked, but I'm still surprised. I've always known there were things wrong with him, and that deep down inside he wasn't really a man, but I never thought he'd actually kill someone, Kirsty Gooden least of all. I knew something was bothering him, but I didn't think to force it out of him. Now as he sits there in a pool of her blood, chains clanking from the ceiling and tears running down his blank face, I can't tell if it's really Elliot or just a demon trying to lure me in.

Kirsty's long gone. She's hanging limp in Elliot's lap, an enormous hole in her chest matching the bloodstain on the front and back of Elliot's shirt. Her eyes are still open and glassy, completely unresponsive in every way. Now that I've had a decent look at her, I guess I can understand why both versions of Elliot are so fond of her. Then again, I shouldn't be thinking about that because I'm already mad enough.

I don't care if it's a demon trying to lure me in, he's going to hear about it. I yank him up from the floor by one bony arm, and Kirsty's body slides off his lap onto the floor. I ask him what the hell he was thinking. I see the box sitting on the table and yank that up as well, asking him if that's what he wanted, and if that's why he did what he did. I don't' care what kind of powers he has, and I care even less about the temper that comes along with them. I'm tired of walking on fucking eggshells all the time, and I'm sick of having to cover up for him all the time. I didn't ask for any of this, but I never turned any of it away. I take care of him, and this is how he shows me he can be trusted. And I did trust him. I trusted him so much, and now he's killing women like some wannabe teen slasher.

I tell him that this isn't what humans do, like he always says. He tries to speak – something about how he had to make a choice, but I'm so past caring I continue to talk over him. So much that it causes him to snap. He screams that I don't understand and the force of it blows me off my feet. I fall backwards and land hard on the wooden floor, Elliot standing over me and looking more and more like what he truly is. I suddenly notice how cold it is in the room, and can do nothing but lock eyes with him. I can't move and I don't know if it's because he's willing it or if it's because I'm afraid of what he's going to do.

His voice was different somehow. It was deeper, and less human sounding. I recognize it, but I don't want to admit to myself where I know it from. Then his face suddenly changes. The demonic sneer melts away, and he realizes what he's done – I can't tell if it's realization of what he's just done to me or if it's what he's done tonight in general. He apologizes, and tells me I wasn't to be involved with this. He tells me he made his choice and now he has to exist with it. One might expect him to say "live with it," but Elliot never makes that mistake when talking about himself. Not when he's already dead.

Now he's pacing around, ranting somewhat incoherently and I can't tell if it's to me or to people only he can see. He's terrified, babbling about how there's no point in laughing at him, because he made the right decision and how he can't be convinced otherwise, even if she happens to get up again. He very much doubts she's been anywhere near Romania, and even then, the Deaders wouldn't even exist anymore had they met Kirsty. What the hell is a Deader, and – while he's on the subject, did he actually just say "Deader?" Is that even a word? Elliot apparently thinks so, and I'm not the person to question him.

He says he promised to never hurt me, and that he would never hurt me no matter how much he wanted to. And he really wants to. He wants to hurt everyone.

He says he's been doing the job Leviathan forced him into ever since his return to Earth, and that was to convince others to open the boxes. Other had opened the boxes, and whoever Elliot was talking to could have whoever they wanted as long as they left me alone. That was the deal, and Elliot had kept to it.

Elliot's never gotten this weird before, and I don't want to accept what I'm hearing. As far as I'm concerned, that guy from the grocery store and all the subsequent others were coincidence. At least I want to think that. I know what Elliot's saying is true, and I hate it. That's why his eyes are black, that's why he can know everything about a person by looking at them. He needs to, so he can put the thought of the box into their heads, just like someone did for him years ago. That's what he meant when he said "I can only give out the thought…not my place to think."

Elliot is talking so fast, I can barely keep up with him, and when I try to get his attention, it's as if I'm not there anymore. That's when he says it.

"Can't you see him, Joey?"


End file.
